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by ignitesthestars



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Exes, F/M, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16031312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitesthestars/pseuds/ignitesthestars
Summary: She looks like she could step on him. She looks like he wants to let her. He’s breathing hard like maybe he’s going to start yelling, but he can’t think of the words. Anger swells in his chest at the stupidity of the whole situation and he should leave, he shouldfucking leave, but he doesn’t move(or: i was deliberately not invited to this wedding so im crashing it anyways, even if that means the angry hot maid of honor is going to murder me)





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The thing is, if he’d been invited to this thing, Kylo absolutely would not have come.

His parents know this, and they’re all long past the point where his mother tries to coerce him into events and gatherings he’s never going to attend, or where his father shows up to be useless at him in an attempt to make him feel guilty.

And yet.

There’s something about the concept of a _vow renewal_ that gets under his skin. So long as their little mockery of a family remained a fractured mess, Kylo could remain assured that they were all equally as miserable as each other. To hear through the corporate grapevine, of all things that his parents were attempting to clean up some part of that mess (to move on) makes him want to hit things.

Luke Skywalker is presiding over the ceremony, Hux had mentioned idly. _That_ had made him want to hit someone specific, although he couldn’t decide if that someone was Hux or his uncle.

Lucky for Hux, he supposes.

He’s working on his third cigarette, eyeing the huge, heavy double doors barring entry to his childhood home. His fingers keep twitching with the urge to enter the security code, but it would have changed dozens of times since he’d left. So he glares balefully at the mansion’s exterior, smoking at the bottom of the front steps.

Somewhere from behind the behemoth house, laughter drifts through the air, music. He should just fucking go. His legs don’t move, but he should fucking go. 

One of the doors cracks open.

“Oh, no you don’t. Absolutely not.”

Rey Jakku slams the door shut behind her, clattering down the stairs in shoes that bring her eyes to mouth height instead of his shoulder. A fact that he only notices because the furious scowl pinching her brows distracts him from her hand snapping the cigarette out from between his lips.

He coughs, turning his head to avoid blowing smoke in her face as she crushes it under her Louboutins.

“One, you said you’d quit. Two, what the hell are you doing here, Ben?”

“Don’t call m--” He breaks off with a hiss as the point of those damn shoes digs into his shin. “ _Stop_.”

A sharp little finger pokes him in the chest. “You’re not ruining today for them. Wherever your head’s at, you deal with it away from here. They’ve worked too hard to get to this point for you to make this about you.”

He grabs her wrist, more to get some kind of control over the situation than to stop her from poking him. Kylo will take any kind of touch he can get from this woman, however she wants to deliver it. She looks - well, she’s always looked amazing, naked or in sweats or wandering around the house in his shirt, but she’s in a suit now, jacket sleeves rolled up, nipped in at the waist, trouser hems just above the delicate bones of her ankles. 

She looks like she could step on him. She looks like he wants to let her. He’s breathing hard like maybe he’s going to start yelling, but he can’t think of the words. He’d argue about whether or not they _do_ deserve it, but he and Rey have had that fight before and it never works out in his favour. Anger swells in his chest at the stupidity of the whole situation and he should leave, he should _fucking leave_ , but he doesn’t move.

“I quit,” he says finally, staring holes in the place where his large hand folds around her wrist. “I did quit.”

Not while they were together, but he had stopped smoking. Eventually. Kylo can’t remember how many months it’s been, but Kylo supposes the clock has reset itself to about one and a half minutes anyway. 

He braces himself for an eyeroll, another snapped comment, more anger. More pain. Instead he just feels her hot breath on his collarbone, a sigh. She picks his fingers from around her wrist one at a time, cupping his hand in both of hers. For a second he thinks that she might - kiss it, or something, and he aches for that kind of gentle touch, for literally any sign of recognition from her.

But all she does is press his fist back into his chest, and let go. There’s sorrow in the way she gazes up at him, and steel. She’s close enough that he can pick out every fleck of green in hazel eyes, count the sprinkle of freckles over her nose. 

“You need to go, Ben,” she says softly. “Please.”

She steps back, away from him. It’s late spring, a lazy sort of warmth coiling in the air, but Kylo only feels cold.

Once upon a time, he probably would have pushed past her. Tried the door until he got lucky, or find another way in (he knows all the secrets of this place, after all). Now, though - now he just swallows. Nods. Turns on his heel and goes, the laughter and music fading to road noise and nothing as he slopes down the driveway.

He does turn though, because he can’t help himself. She’s still there at the bottom of the steps, a sharp figure in that damn suit, and he can’t decide if she’s watching him go, or making sure he does.


End file.
